Clairvoyance
by vagabond wolf
Summary: Meda is back in La Push for the first time in fourteen years. But the headaches are getting worse, her brother seems to know something she doesn't, and a total stranger is avoiding her because she fell off a chair. There's no place like home. Embry/OC


**A/N: I'm going to try not to make this another generic imprint story, but it's difficult! Let me know if it's absolutely terrible. I've got an actual plot in store for my OC, so she hopefully shouldn't be too 2D. I'm not going to pay **_**too**_** much attention to age. I'm making Jared, Kim, Jacob, Embry and Quil the same age as my protagonist for convenience. Leah, Sam, Paul, Rachel and Emily have all graduated. Seth, Brady and Collin are younger, as are (obviously) Claire and Renesmee.**

**Please review, this is my first attempt at fanfiction. I hope you enjoy.**

_The fear ripped through me again and again. I kept expecting myself to get used to the overwhelming sight that stood metres away but every time I felt brave enough to lift my eyes again the air got trapped in my lungs and my gut twisted in terror. I had no idea where it had come from or what it was doing here and I wanted to badly to raise the alarm and run, but I swallowed my screams to protect my family; to let them sleep. I would be brave. I would take death quietly. It was obviously intended for me._

It's getting worse - the headaches and the strange burning sensation in my eyes. I'll feel my eyes go wide and my hands will grip whatever surface is closest and I'll brace myself for the strangely intense and inescapable daydream. They're pleasant for the most part. In my head there will be visions of the ocean and tall, dark, handsome men. But occasionally something like this will happen and I'll be left with a cold sweat, wondering why my imagination has to be so overactive.

Whatever, I'm probably overreacting - thinking I have some rare psychological disease and panicking myself into another 'mandatory daydream'. There's a word for that: hypochondria.

I sigh and throw another pair of socks into the jam-packed suitcase that lays at the foot of my bed. I really do have a _lot_ of clothes. My father had bought me a lot of new things this year in an attempt to reconcile our relationship. It isn't working, I still resent him, but I got a pair of designer jeans out of it, and a brand new camera. You win some, you lose some. His guilt probably isn't entirely necessary, and neither is my anger - I'd sensed something was up for a long time even before the divorce. But being informed that your father is leaving your mother for another man is bound to make a girl bitter.

Not only that, but my mother moved back to our native Washington and I've been stuck on my own with my father and his lover for two years. Don't get me wrong, Daniel's nice, and I love England - I've lived here since I was three - but I've really missed my mum.

Anyhow, now my dad's decided to have some kind of weird mid-life crisis and so he and 'Danny' are off to travel the wide world, make their fortune, whatever. Anyhow that's at least a year in Washington for me and my brother. Back to my mum's incredible cooking and tanned skin. Where people will make fun of my accent rather than my name.

Elan's handled it surprisingly well. The moving around and the mid-life crisis and the homosexuality. He's always been strangely quiet and accepting - 'wise beyond his years' mum always used to say. Whereas I've always been the immature, fiery one. 'A slave to my own emotions' (another gem from my mother).

A car crawls up the driveway. Four hours and I'll be on a plane, back to 'the rez'. Mum's been talking about it so fondly since she moved back, and it's been sounding more and more appealing (sans the rain, but I can deal with that).

What I'm most looking forward to is meeting some family. In such a close knit community, none of them seem to move around a lot, nor go on many holidays or family visits, so I've never met the majority of my La Push relatives. It seems quaint there. Peaceful, from what I've heard on the phone to my mum. The occasional bear attack is as crazy as it gets out there.

I don't remember much from the years I spent there as a toddler. The odd face, though all I can recall is tanned skin and black hair - pretty generic Quileute stuff. I remember the sea, and the rain, and the stories that Uncle Harry used to tell me and the other kids, gathered round the fire.

'Meda, Elan, are you nearly packed?' Dad yells up the stairs.

'Yeah I'm done!' I call back, excited to be up in the sky, on my way home at seventeen.

* * *

><p>My first week in La Push is spent mainly indoors, sorting out schooling over the phone ('Yes we'd be happy to take you on Miss Osage! You say you're Quileute?') and catching up with my mother. By Sunday evening I'm on the edge of my chair, wanting the night to be over and school to start. Elan and I stay up a while with cocoa and reading books until I feel the fire behind my eyes once again and have to set the book down on the table and prepare myself for the familiar ache-<p>

_intensity, the earth's core, pine trees, the rush of wind, a careless gaze, tied with rope, can't move_

-and I let my head fall back and my mouth drop open with a breathy sob of relief. Maybe I should get that checked out. If it were just in my head... but it's affecting me physically as well. I feel weak and feverish.

I've just noticed Elan's inquisitive stare. He raises one eyebrow and waits patiently. He really should not hold that much power over me at fifteen. He's silently persuasive - it's kind of creepy. Still, I can't help but pour out to him what I saw, what I felt.

And after my lengthy description, my breathless panting, my strange hand spasms, all he does is lift himself quietly up from the chair, give a slight smirk and say 'Really, _Meda_, you can't tell me you're that surprised.' Then he simply turns and walks out of the kitchen and up to bed. Freak. Does he think he sounds profound and intelligent by saying my name in that weird omniscient voice? I'm just going to ignore it all. The vis- the daydreams, and my kid brother.

I traipse up the stairs to bed and shake my head vigorously, as if trying to shake out evil spirits. The burning sensation lessens a little, but doesn't quite go away.

'Lack of sleep' I mutter to myself. It's a quarter to midnight. I should probably get some rest.

* * *

><p>Elan leaves way before me the next morning. Probably doesn't want me to cramp his 'effortlessly cool and mysterious' style. I pull on some jeans and a jumper, grab a couple of English muffins (because there are <em>some<em> things I'll miss about that country) and get walking.

The high school is a little way out. About a twenty minute walk from mum's out-of-the-way house on the edge of the reservation. I have to walk through a substantial amount of forest to get there and the wind on the back of my neck gives my skin the odd burning sensation I'm becoming so used to. Something in the air out here.

When I finally manage to find my way to the small group of buildings tucked away in a sort of cove of trees I grab the wad of paper with all my details on tucked away in my bag and make for what looks to be the reception. I take in my surroundings as I go. The school seems to be exclusively Quileute, though that may just be a coincidence. A group stood over by the gate stare at me as I walk by - a strange, nerdy guy gives me an almost predatory stare. I laugh in the opposite direction, trying to disguise my amusement. As I lift my eyes I catch sight of an unnaturally tall boy bending down to tie a piece of string round his ankle. Odd. I would've guessed him to be a teacher had it not been for the ratty cut-offs that hung low on his hips. He was good looking, I supposed, in a puppy dog-esque way.

I exchange my details with the woman on reception for a map of the school, a time-table and a copy of the 'school code', and she quizzes me on my heritage for a while. I humour her - I have nowhere to be quite yet and no friends to kill time with. She tells me that one of my cousins, Seth, goes here, but is a bit younger. Leah's and Emily are both a couple of years older than me. She tells me a bit about my relatives (everybody seems to know everyone here), but goes on to inform me that I'm related in some way to pretty much everybody here (ah, that's why).

I guess I'll have to do some extensive research on any guy's background here if there were any potential boyfriends. I'm pretty liberal but I can't say I'm into the whole incest thing.

The bell rings and I bid the lady a cheery goodbye before heading to my first ever American class - Biology. Outstanding, my poorest subject.

* * *

><p>Biology passes slowly and painfully, so no difference there, but I make a friend, sort of. Kim something-or-other is very quiet but gives a great pained expression. We exchanged many of these during Biology and she shows me to my next class, History. Much better.<p>

'Oh! Meda, I see my boyfriend in there. You should go say hi to him if you need someone to talk to. He's the one in the green shirt, with the gorgeous eyes and the dreamy smile...' I'm having a little trouble replying to her because I'm having a little trouble getting over the fact that she just used the phrase 'dreamy smile'. Coupled with that weird distant look plastered all over her face, it's a little weird (like much in this tiny settlement, I'm beginning to realise).

'Thanks Kim, I'll be sure to introduce myself,' I interrupt her weird trance and she gives me a hurried smile, rushing off in the opposite direction.

I notice Jared straight away as I wander into the room. 'The one in the green shirt' is very hard to miss, given his unnatural size. He reminds me of puppy dog guy from earlier. There's an empty seat next to him and I seize the opportunity - he has a kind face.

'Hey, you're Kim's boyfriend? She told me to say hi,' I say in one breath, hoping I don't sound like the desperate new girl.

'I'm sorry my friend Embry sits- oh! You know Kim? Any friend of hers is a friend of-' he's interrupted by a smack in the back of the head from the guy sat behind him.

'Jared, new-girl isn't used to you and Kimmy-Kins' creepiness yet, don't inflict it on her too early,' he turns and grins at me. 'Quil Ateara.'

He is very tall too.

'Meda Osage, nice to meet you,' I give him my most winning smile.

'You're British?' He seems impressed.

'Originally from here, but we moved over there when I was small, so I picked up the accent.'

'Pretty cool,' he nods

As I'm about to continue the conversation on, pleased that I seem to have made a friend that isn't overly obsessed with Jared's smile, the heat overwhelms me again. It's a little worse this time. I grab onto the table in front of me to steady myself, feeling like I'm about to fall flat off the earth. I vaguely hear somebody asking who's the girl who's stolen his seat before I _do_ fall. Straight off my chair and onto the space of floor between Jared's desk and mine, or not mine, as the case may be.

The shock of the contact with the floor helps me to regain my awareness, and the burning lessens White spots appear as I open my eyes and raise them skywards, ready to apologise profusely to Jared and Quil and whoever it is who's desk I've stolen.

But as I meet the eyes of the third (extremely tall) boy, several things happen at once.

Quil asks if I'm okay.

Jared says 'Meda, this is Embry'.

A balding man with glasses and a briefcase enters the room and tells everybody to quieten down.

And the boy who I'm assuming is called Embry.

Well, he promptly turns and runs out of the classroom door, at impressive speed.


End file.
